


I'll be right behind you, I promise

by Emanating_Auras



Category: 24 (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jack Bauer needs help, Pain, Spoilers for entire show, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Very dark please be warned, constant reminder of everyone who died, deals with very heavy topics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 10,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26143261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emanating_Auras/pseuds/Emanating_Auras
Summary: These are a collection of slightly canon-divergent one-shots that follow scenes from the show. Contains spoilers for the entire series.Warning! This fic deals with very heavy themes, such as grief and suicidal thoughts. Please do not read if you are sensitive to them.
Relationships: Jack Bauer/Audrey Raines, Jack Bauer/Renee Walker (24), Tony Almeida/Jack Bauer (implied)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Teri Bauer

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Shape of Grief](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13851957) by [Tattered_Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tattered_Dreams/pseuds/Tattered_Dreams). 



> 24 fic in 2020? Yup. Was recently introduced, binged the entire series over two months, and now I consider myself an avid fan. I only started writing for the latter half of the show that I watched, which is kind of funny because my watching order was 6, 2, 3, 4 5, 7, 1, 8, 9. So I haven't written anything for Days 2, 3, and 6. I might come back and do it eventually, though.
> 
> Also, as you can see, this work was inspired by Tattered_Dreams' "the Shape of Grief". I highly recommend you check it out, as even though it's from a different fandom, the language and depiction of grief was the inspiration I had for a lot of this fic.

Kim’s safe. Oh my god, Kim’s safe. _His family is safe._

“Hey dad, where’s mom?”

And he’s not worrying. Maybe Teri just wandered off…

“Kim, I thought she was with you!”

“Dad, I thought she went looking for you first?”

“Ok, sweetheart, I’ll go look for her. You stay right here with the guards, ok?”

He has no idea.

He walks in the tech room, confused. No idea how much his life is going to fall apart in mere moments.

He’s about to leave, about to close the door when he spots her.

That signature pink sweater, that mop of brown hair;

_tied up in a chair, passed out or—_

“Teri?!” He cries, and practically launches himself across the room, spinning the chair and ripping the duct tape off her mouth, watching as

_the blood dries around her chest_

“Oh my god,” he breathes, momentary elation forgotten at the sight of her, _please Teri don’t die, don’t leave me like this, stay with me,_ but he can’t get anything out, not a word, his throat is constricting and

He uncuffs her hands ( _Nina_ ) and picks her up, weighing only about as much as Kim now, so much lighter _since she’s lost so much blood it might be too late_

Picks her up, is making for the door when—

Her wiry body, always so tense and taut, even asleep or passed out, going limp, he can no longer feel her laboured, shallow breaths, his hand rests on her heart, there’s

_NO PULSE._

“Teri, no, no—“ He can’t get anything out, it’s coming, the tidal wave is coming, it’s surrounding him, he can’t see or hear or breathe, it’s her,

_Teri Bauer dies in his arms_

and everything he’s been holding back today, panic and grief and anger, and the door opens to let them all out.

It threatens to destroy Jack, crush him under its tidal wave, shoving Jack against the wall,

_if you had just gotten here faster—_

Teri’s not dead, she’s not dead, she’s

_dead, Jack, dead, you smiled while she was cuffed and shot, and you did nothing!_

His first lick of grief worms its way into his chest, and soon his entire body is quivering with sobs, harsh and rough and scratching his throat

He sinks down to the floor, one last beg—

“please, Teri, please,”

but there’s no pulse, no breathing, nothing. Just the roaring of currents in his ears, currents of grief that are rising, rising, he’s drowning and—

_She is dead._

And

Jack Bauer

breaks.

Hand reaches for her brown mop of hair, running through it as if

_she were alive_

and he’s shaking, he won’t stop shaking, why-?

_“I’m glad you moved back in, daddy,” says Kim, and_

_He looks to her, after confirming checkmate, smiling,_

_“Me too, sweetheart,”_

And the floodgates burst, they explode and let all the grief out, and it comes in horrible, ugly sobs that break the room down into nothing, just the darkness and Teri’s body,

_face contorted in agony-_

_“Ok? I, really appreciate that,” says Teri,_

_smiling, kissing, the sound of her voice_

never to be heard again, buries his face in her

_cold, dead_

shoulder, cries and cries, there’s nothing he can do anymore, she’s

_gone, Jack, she’s gone._

_“you really, really appreciate it?”_

And the memory draws closer, tantalising in its nostalgia, homesickness versus grief, the sensation isn’t even comparable—

_SHE’S GONE, JACK!_

Wet, matted hair, tears blending with sweat until metal fills his mouth, body so heavy and leaden that he can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t _live._

Kim will never recover, she’ll blame _him—_

He can’t help it, he cries and cries until the tears no longer come, until medical personnel rush into the room and start dragging her out of his hands, _no, Teri, stay with me, please,_

_She’s gone, Jack, Teri is dead,_

And the darkness feels like a reprieve, but in fact

it’s only the beginning.


	2. Paul Raines

“Jack! YOU KILLED HIM! YOU SON OF A BITCH.”

“I hate you.”

_I hate you._

He walks away. Trying not to scream, muffled thumping in his chest. Everything is too far away, he can’t see, he can’t think-

He makes it to a conference room before leaning against the wall, vulnerability running like a current through his body.

_You can’t justify all the crimes you’ve committed!_

_I do the right thing!_

_That’s an excuse and you know it. You take away everything a person loves and call it a victory. You. Do. Not. Care. Heartless and cruel, and you choose to do so anyway._

**Bang.**

“Jack?”

“Jack?!”

Someone’s pounding on the door with increasingly urgent cries for his name, but he doesn’t have the time or energy to deal with them, he just needs to _get it over with and get back to work,_ dammit!

_Keep your breathing under control, just get it under control and get back to work—_

God, when has he last been so distraught?

After Teri—

He shuts that thought out of his mind desperately, as the floodgates begin to crumble. He bites his lip, gnashing his teeth together, barely preventing tears _weakness_ from spilling out of his eyelids.

**_BANG._ ** ****

The door _flies_ off its hinges, crashing to the side of the room. He barely flinches at the sudden noise, years of combat training drawing his eyes to the intruder immediately, scanning for a hostile—

“Jack, listen to me!”

Tony Almeida bursts in, sweat glistening on his forehead, sleeves rolled up and arms bruised. It must look odd, seeing the _unbeatable, invincible_ Jack Bauer biting back tears in the corner of the room, swaying on his feet, eyes screwed shut as he fights off waves of panic.

“Jack, what’s— oh.”

He hears the drop his tone, hears the disappointment, is ready to bottle it all up and push forward, like he always has—

But Tony’s face doesn’t drop, his voice doesn’t waver, and his stance… goes from hostile to relaxed, shoulders sagging.

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, rough and tender and gentle, sewing up gaping holes that he hadn’t realised existed until he opens his eyes, feeling warmth fill his chest.

The warmth he feels is like a gentle candle, burning away the ice that fills his chest every time he breathes. It lowers his guard, and he instinctively tenses again— _can’t lower my guard here, this is CTU, not here not now, not now._

Tony’s eyebrows are raised in concern, but that’s all he needs to bottle it up, swallow it down into the recesses of his heart until today is over, until he has time to take out the pieces. He can’t afford distractions, not when Marwan is still loose, not when he has to track down a nuclear warhead in two hours. He _can’t afford_ to put his eyes anywhere but the goal.

After all, he still has a country to save.

“You alright, Jack?”

“…yeah.”


	3. Tony Almeida?

Jack feels like collapsing, crying, screaming when the car blows up, the brilliant flash of orange and white an excuse for the tears gathering at the edge of his eyes.

Tony’s dead.

Tony’s dead, and it hurts too much to think, hurts to even move or speak, hurts to be alive, he’s already got too much blood on his hands—

_Deep breath. Focus._

If there’s one thing in his life that he’s done right, it’s his decisions to push down all the mental baggage weighing him down every time a crisis comes up.

He does that now, ignoring Curtis’ suspcious look as he bites his lip, the pain bringing him back to reality. He has a job, and it’s not to break down over Tony—

He pulls it together, because that’s what he always does. Audrey’s not here, Tony’s not here, he can’t afford to break now. There’s no one here to lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder, no one to whisper in his ear and hold him as the dam bursts. There’s no one to slow down the ice that’s choking him every time he tries to breath.

_Not since you pushed them away—_

So he tears his eyes away from the fire that burns in front of him, slaps the mental equivalent of duct tape over his bleeding heart, breaths short and laboured, not unexpected for a field agent on the run. And he gets to work.

Just as he always does. Jack Bauer is the agent who never breaks, tough and rugged and unbeatable.

No weaknesses. Even after a friend’s death.

Because that’s who he is.

Jack Bauer.

(And when they find Tony again, if he takes a minute lean into the stall and let the tears flow, well, no one has to know.)


	4. Day 4 Ending

Being woken up after dying isn’t pleasant at all, but he does what he must. Tony and Michelle don’t talk— they just run, Tony driving and Michelle grabbing all the stuff he’ll need— his fake ID, contacts, everything.

It hurts.

His heart aches, and not because he was resuscitated with epinephrine. No, he struggles to catch his breath as they approach the border checkpoint, every breath a deep and difficult task, like ice has filled his lungs, running through his veins.

It hurts. To have done so much, now to give up the peace he’d fought so long and hard for.

Legally, Jack Bauer is dead. Jack Bauer feels dead, too— he’s lost too much. Friends, family, lovers.

_You killed him—_

And Jack regrets that split-second of hesitation, when he walked away and looked back at Tony. He should’ve walked away, walked away from it all. He had the chance to end it, to cut off from this world that has demanded everything from him in return for nothing.

He should’ve died for real, on the cold metal of the CTU floor. He’s served his duty to this country. If his last duty to this country is to die, then so be it.

He’s so, so tired.

But he doesn’t voice that. How can he, in the presence of those who saved him? He has to swallow the ice in his throat, the creeping cold that threatens to swallow him whole, and endure the trip.

Exhaustion laps at him in waves, and he lets the feeling gently pull him into a doze, mind finally at peace.

_Maybe, maybe I can find peace. Just living an honest life, working at a normal job._

How can he be at peace, when Kim and Chase and Tony and Michelle and _Chloe_ have all been taken from him? He has to live away from them, drowning in a life where he’s alone.

He fights for his country, for his friends and family, for the people he loves. How cruel is it, he reminisces, to take away everything he’s been fighting for? He’s dead to all Americans, he’s dead to all but Palmer, Chloe, Tony, and Michelle, and he can no longer contact them without repercussions.

He’s well and truly dead, at this point. Legally, mentally, physically. He just wants to _die._

He hops out of the car, legs protesting against the movement. He’s still weak from the epinephrine shot, but he forces himself to steady as he grabs his bag and sunglasses.

“…Jack.” Tony’s calling him back over, eyebrows crinkled in concern. “…stay safe, yeah?”

“Y-you got it, Tony.” Jack curses at his own weakness, and moves to turn away, but hesitates to walk.

“Michelle, Tony. I’m… sorry.”

Michelle is… quiet and reserved, not unlike her usual work persona, except her eyes carry sadness instead of the steely-eyed determination he’s used to. “What have you got to be sorry for, Jack?”

“I… nothing. Forget I said anything.” He’s regretting his decision to speak now, insecurities exposed momentarily for them to shoot down.

“…stay in touch a little, ok?” He calls back, feeling tears gather at the back of his eyelids.

He lets them fall, feeling the salty liquid drum the weakness into his bones. But he’s not done with goodbyes— he flips open his cell, dialling the number from muscle memory alone.

“O’Brian.”

“Hey, Chloe. It’s Jack.” He begins, already feeling the ice form in his throat. “I’m just calling because… you know. It’s goodbye.”

“Hey.” He knows she can’t use his name out in public anymore, and it doesn’t bother him. “Are you, um, going to cross the border now?”

“Yeah.” He replies, slightly breathless and at a loss for words. He doesn’t know how to say goodbye anymore, not after Tony and Michelle.

He’s so tired. So, so tired.

“So, you know… stay safe, alright?” He hears the choked breath on the other end, and knows he can’t keep her on like this, in suspense of what he’s going to say. If anyone can understand him better than himself, it’s Chloe.

“I guess this is.. the end. Goodbye, Chloe.”

_Bzzt._

Pressing the ‘End Call’ button takes for strength out of him than he thinks it should, and he shudders as he answers the call from Palmer.

“Jack.”

“Hello, Mr. President.”

“This country and I owe you a great debt, Jack. More than I can express his words. _Thank you,_ Jack.”

He almost breaks down when Palmer says that, the rush of emotion stronger than any pain he’s felt since the day began. “It’s— it’s been an honour, sir.”

“You are aware that after this phone call, Jack Bauer is effectively dead?”

“Yes, sir.”

He muffles a curse into his shoulder as tears begin rolling down his face en masse, the cold morning wind burying them deeper.

“I… suppose this is the last time we will ever talk again, Jack. I… don’t have any words to thank you for your service. You’ve sacrificed so much— t-this country will never be able to pay you back.” It’s a testament to Palmer’s honour, that he even stutters in a conversation.

_I’ve made sacrifices, sacrifices that have ruined lives._

“…Goodbye, Jack.”

Jack can’t hide the shaky quality of his voice anymore, nor the muted sniffles from his nose. “…Thank you for everything, sir.”

Tony and Michelle’s car has already sped off into the distance, so he turns his head, shoulders hunched forward. His old life is over. He’s got to forge his own path now.

He has to go.


	5. David Palmer, Michelle Dessler, Tony Almeida

Jack hurts.

It hurts _so much._ David Palmer, the most honest and loyal man he’s served under.

Dead.

Michelle.

Oh gods, Michelle. She died because of _him._ Because he refused to give his life for the country and insisted on running. He chokes back a sob in the corner of the room, hands shaking too fast to grip his gun properly.

_Tony._

He can’t help the tears that leak out now, hot and wet and _furious,_ grief intermingling with anger until he tastes metal in his mouth. He’s thankful that the forensics have already left the room, leaving him to fend off the creeping tendrils of despair alone.

Dead. Because of _him._

And what Kim said was true, wasn’t it? He’s basically cursed, he has been, ever since he watch Teri fade away in his arms. So many people have died _on his watch._ He’s always known he’s a murderer, taking lives as necessary to resolve crises, but it doesn’t quite hit home until—

_All those… all of them. If I had been faster, stronger, smarter, I could’ve prevented this. It’s because of me—_

A hand on his shoulder violently jolts him out of his thoughts, and he’s pointed his gun at them without much of a second thought. Danger registering before anything else.

“Jack! Jack, I’m sorry, I know this isn’t protocol…”

It’s Chloe.

He sighs in exhaustion, dropping his gun lazily beside him. Chloe flinches at the sound, crouching down beside him.

_Pathetic, aren’t I? Reduced to this, right now when CTU needs me most?_

“…Jack.”

“Mm?” He’s… too tired to respond to Chloe fully. It’s barely been 12 hours, but he can barely lift a hand to grab his gun again.

He’s so, so tired.

“I- I know how you feel,” Chloe begins, losing the brusqueness that she exudes for other people, adopting the calm and almost empathetic tone that she reserves for the two of them. “Edgar, too…”

He wants to scream and cry and yell at her, _it’s not the same, it never will be,_ but she’s right. She’s right, and he swallows down the searing hot taste of grief, fire dancing delicately in his veins, despair’s ice-cold tendrils wrapping around his arms. She’s right, and he’s a hypocrite for thinking that at all.

He’s always been a hypocrite.

“But you told me to get up and keep working, Jack,” and of course she’s right, he’s always wrong. Makes the wrong decisions,

_sacrifices human lives for those mistakes,_

never enough.

“Shrinks don’t tend to follow their own advice. You’re not a shrink, Jack, so follow your own damn advice!” Chloe’s bristling with festering rage now, and he welcomes the feeling of suffocating despair over him as well. It’s a feeling he knows all too well, but this time he has to process it, instead of letting it fester in his heart, delayed forever.

It hits him.

The waves of grief he’s buried, time and time again, burst forth like a wellspring of hatred, bubbling with unadulterated _fury,_ drawing limitlessly from the cesspools of his heart—

_It hurts, make it stop MAKE IT STOP_

_You killed them, you stood there and you watched them die, and now because of YOU they’re gone, what about Chapelle, what about those people at the mall, if it hadn’t been for YOUR indecision they wouldn’t have died_

_What about sacrificing the lives of Tony, Michelle, and Palmer who covered for you, did you ever think about why they were killed, because of YOU, YOU caused their deaths, if it hadn’t been for you THEY WOULD’VE LIVED_

“No… no, no.” He’s aware he sounds like a lunatic to Chloe now, but if there’s anyone who understands him, it’s her. “No… no, that’s not true. I- I had to save the lives of everyone else…”

“Jack?”

“No, no, no! It… it was necessary… it was…… necessary……”

“ne…cess…ary…”

_You. You did this to them._

A broken sob claws its way out of his throat, tearing into the silent room with sharpened claws.

“Jack…” Chloe’s at a loss for words as well, despair digging its ugly claws into both of them. There’s no need for words between the two of them; besides, what could they say? A hollow reassurance that it’s not their fault?

Guilt is a dark creature, but grief is its own entity. It casts the longest shadow, snuffs out light, but the void of loss that’s made its home in his bones is stronger than regret.

He’s so, so tired.

A hand finds its way to his arm, and he doesn’t flinch back. Chloe’s hand radiates unstable warmth, her heartbeat pulsing erratically, as is his. Despair’s tendrils recede temporarily at the touch, but remain coiled around him, sapping energy from Jack like a parasite.

And Jack _drowns_ in it.


	6. Bill's thoughts

Bill watches the pair through the glass.

He’s… never witnessed Jack look so lost before. That feeling of grief, the entity that snuffs out the light and settles in your bones like weighted lead. Bill doesn’t know what it looks like until he sees Jack hunched over in pain, a glazed, faraway look in his eyes.

Bill doesn’t blame him. But he understands, now, how low grief drags you, how much strength it takes to even withstand it. Tony crumpled under its leaden weight, snuffed out by the void that enveloped him after Michelle’s death. Jack pushes back, but guilt’s ugly claws eat away at him as well, breaking open the padlock he holds over his heart, letting grief cast its shadow over him.

He respects, maybe even admires Jack’s strength, sometimes. It’s… painful, to see him brought down.

And… through word-of-mouth, and his actions today, he knows now how much he has suffered fighting for the country, how many sacrifices he made in the past, and has made under his watch.

He remembers Kim’s words, hushed but loud enough for anyone who cared to listen.

“Bad things happen around you, dad, and I can’t be a part of it.”

That’s why it surprises him, when Chloe enters the room and attempts to comfort him. Unbothered by the gun abruptly pointed at her face, voice losing the harshness he’s accustomed to, soft murmurs so _different_ than the Chloe he’s used to that he does a double take.

He’s always known Jack and Chloe were close, but… they really will go through thick and thin for each other. He’s awed and a little humbled at the same time by the kindness those two reserve for each other, Jack trying his best to hold it in for Chloe, while Chloe’s risking her job by taking time off repairing CTU to comfort Jack.

Bill sees the little signs in Chloe too, the slumped shoulders, the red eyes, and knows that grief has cast its own shadow over her; guilt churns within both of them, and Bill knows they are drowning under the weight of their emotions.

Guilt rests uncomfortably in his own stomach, too, and he swallows the acidic feeling.

He turns his head away as Jack _cries_ _,_ a sob tearing through the stuffy silence like wet paper. Jack would be ashamed, if he knew Bill was pitying him.

He ignores the rest of their exchange, averting his eyes in shame.

They just need some time. They won’t be working at 100%, but they’ll push through, even against the shadow that grief casts, the tendrils of despair that suffocate them. They have each other.

He hopes that’s enough.


	7. I want to know that you feel the same pain as I do

“I want to know that you feel the same way!” screams Renee, slapping him harshly across the cheek.

He does.

He really, really does.

But he knows, despite the sharp, cutting agony that tears through him, that it was done for good.

He did it because it was necessary.

_Necessary._

Renee screams at him, cries, slaps him harshly. What she doesn’t know is the void of loss and regret that’s seared into his bones as already taken what little emotion he has left.

He knows what her grief feels like. He’s lived with it since that soulless night, when Nina Myers shot and killed-

_Teri. George. Chapelle. Paul. Palmer. Michelle._

God, it’s mantra of people he couldn’t save. He lives with the loss embedded into his bones, every fiber of his being worn down, every second of the day. His stupid choices, his _direct_ choices— they lead to death and destruction, every time.

He lives between two states. One is a sharp, cutting agony, like the knife was stabbed between his ribs, like it has been, countless times. It’s like it’s still wedged there, stemming blood flow but preventing healing, still letting him bleed out, just far slower, drawn out, prolonging. His other state is total numbness.

He lives and breathes pain. Numbness only comes when he’s exhausted it. He doesn’t live, per se— but he survives, because he has to see it through, to make their sacrifices (sacrifices?) worth it.

_Tony. Lynne. Edgar._

That one night of Sentox in CTU- even if Tony was still alive, it didn’t take away the pure, festering _grief_ he felt as he cried against his friend’s body.

_Curtis. Graem_

Gods, Curtis. He’d spent many a night laying still in bed, replaying that scene over and over, searching for a way out. Curtis’ blood is on his hands. Just like everyone else.

He didn’t cry or even feel anything, as he received the news that Graem was dead. He was almost glad, too. Still, that’s one more piece of his family he’s lost, no matter how despicable the man was. Kim’s the only one he has left.

So when Renee screams at him, “I want to know that you feel the same way, Jack!”, he throws her a look.

A calculated one; for one brief, vulnerable moment, Renee stares into Jack’s eyes, and finds years and years of grief in that look, old and weary and soulless. It’s a look that communicates more than a thousand words ever could— they speak volumes to Renee, and she just… stares.

Jack Bauer is tired. So, so tired.

So he turns away, and keeps moving forward. Because that’s what he always does.


	8. Bill Buchanan

He adds Bill to the list of people he’s killed.

It was supposed to be _him._

If he hadn’t told him the plan-

No. Don’t go there.

He has to keep going. The threat is still ongoing; he has no time.

Only a quiet sob, as Renee Walker watches on in silence.


	9. Day 7 Ending

His last moments on earth.

It’s comforting. Knowing that his tortured existence will be gone. So many lives, innocent or not, taken by his hands.

He… knows. It won’t make up for the lives that have been ruined; how many people had families, friends, lovers, waiting for them?

He’s done.

Renee isn’t with him. Maybe that’s for the best.

Neither is Kim.

He will die alone. That’s enough penance for his crimes.

He only hopes that it will be quick. Then again, he doesn’t deserve a quick death.

Goodnight.


	10. I'm going with you

Renee. Oh, Renee.

He regrets everything. He doesn’t live with the torture of the many people he’s had to perform it on, over the years. He slips away, sometimes, and tries to come to terms with the pain.

He never does.

He knows what Renee tried to do. He’s thought about it himself, too many times for comfort.

Ultimately, he had Kim. And Audrey, for a brief while, until he killed-

Don’t go there. But he had Kim. And the prion slowly eating away at his life was bearable. Almost comforting, in the fact that it was finally over. No more guilt tearing him apart, one day after the other.

Then he lived.

He… isn’t sure whether he should’ve. A demon brought back to life.

Kim bears Teri now, and he thinks he’s in a better place. Away from old demons. Away from CTU, away from Tony, away from Chloe. Taking care of his _granddaughter._

Those two hurt to think about. But he had pushed on, lived a happier life- until now.

The devil had to be brought back into play. He supposed he never deserved a happy, peaceful life, in the end.

And neither did Renee.

It’s a tender moment, as he touched her scar. Still pink, not raw but healing. Hidden under the sleeves, a show of weakness.

He doesn’t tell her he feels the same. That’s inappropriate, and demeaning. Uncalled for.

But he has scars- not just battle wounds. No, the old CTU Jack had agonised over many deaths.

_Grief is an open wound. His heart bleeds out through it._

Scars lace his shoulder- they twinge, sometimes, when he’s raising his gun. An action he hasn’t had to do in a while. A reminder, perhaps, of his shortcomings.

He has one for all of them. Teri, Mason, Chapelle, Paul, Tony, Michelle, Palmer, Curtis, Bill. Pockmarking his skin like the rest of his battle wounds, but they were never suffered for survival.

He suffers those for failure.

The vulnerable moment passes. In an instant, Renee has pulled down her sleeve again, hiding her weakness from the world. Moving away from him, distancing herself.

He can’t help the words that spill out of his mouth. “I want to go with her.”

The look she gives him is painful.

But he regrets everything. Regrets letting Renee come this far. Regrets letting himself get this far.

At least there’s one thing he can fix. He won’t let Renee walk the same path as him. Maybe on some level, she understands— there’s something universal about grief and pain that can’t be described.

Larry’s death to her was as Teri’s death was to him. He won’t let her down that path anymore— he’s suffered so much more than one person should be able to handle.

No one should have to go through what he did.


	11. Renee Zadan

He understands.

It hurts so much to hear, but he understands.

He had- he had nothing to live for, too. He’d faced down a gun more times than he could count, and even before his instincts kicked in, he was daring them.

_Shoot me._

Death, unfortunately, was a disappointing bastard.

So he can’t do any more than listen in horrified silence as she begs- pleads for Vladamir to end her life, voice cracking with emotion. It- it brings back memories. Not just of Teri-

_Always your fault_

But everyone.

A pang runs through his chest as he struggles to recall them. His memory is growing weaker- or maybe his mind is trying to protect him. _Palmer. Michelle. Paul._

God forgive him, for Chapelle.

Even Tony. But thinking about what he became is even worse—

No. Jack, _focus._ Renee’s life is at stake.

He can’t help the choking feeling that’s clawing its way through his throat, bursting out in a horrible cough. He hopes she doesn’t startle— because soon there are tears running down his face.

She… reminds him of himself. Years ago, when Teri died. Only last year, when— Bill.

Even now. He never gets used to safety. Jumpy, scared— Kim worries, sometimes. Why he gets so little sleep, and how rough he looks when he’s just woken up. Loss etched into his face like the years age their presence into the sediment.

_Focus, Jack!_

He takes a deep, shuddering breath as Vladamir relents— hearing the safety click. On or off, he’s kept in suspense for one terrible moment as he—

“Just had to test your resolve.”

And Jack wants to _cry._

Resolve? What resolve? The ability to bear your sins and stare death in the face, not flinching? Not reaching out to the tempting invitation? Vladamir knows nothing of resolve.

He doesn’t realise he’s breathing heavily until Chloe’s voice comes crackling over on comms. “…Jack? There’s some interference—static, can you hear me?”

He pulls the comm unit away from his mouth, biting his lip to pull him back into the present. “…sorry.”

There’s something tight and clipped, and he flinches as Chloe’s response comes in. “Jack? You ok?”

“Yeah,” he replies breathlessly, because what else is there to say? Chloe— god, he loves Chloe, he’d protect her with his life. But she just doesn’t _understand,_ not in the visceral way he and Renee do.

Chloe can read his breathing patterns at this point— they’re that familiar with each other. She knows better than to push it.

He listens into the comm with bated breath, half a mind to berate Renee. _Don’t throw your life away like this,_ he wants to say. _It’s not worth it._

Of course, the plan falls apart as soon as he conceives it in his mind. How can he? It’s hypocrisy at its finest, even if Renee doesn’t know it. Because that’s what everyone told him after Teri died, and did he listen?

Obviously not. He stifles a humourless laugh, all traces of mirth replaced with bitterness. That’s why he’s here now: a shell of the man he used to be.

He doesn’t have the heart to yell at Renee.

After all, in her position, he would’ve done the same.


	12. Omar Hassan

Hassan.

One more death on his hands. It’s an old mantra— faster, stronger, smarter.

Prerecorded. Why was he so _stupid?_ Shouldn’t he have been able to see through it? The unbeatable agent, letting the enemy kill a President?

Something stirs inside Jack. Grief? Or mere sadness? He’s long since past the point of being able to tell the difference.

It must be worth something.

It threatens to envelop him— dark, roaring waves lapping at the shoreline, pulling him under. The horrid stench of blood and the ugly gash tearing its ugly claws into his heart.

He _failed._

A cry bubbles up from his throat— but stays there. He opens his mouth, and faintly registers the desire to puke— but he doesn’t cry. Nothing comes out: no tears, no vomit, not even a sound, a whimper.

He _can’t._

He can’t bear another thought. It pains him, to tear his sight away from the man he was supposed to protect, to shield himself from the despair that’s engulfing everything. Drinking in the scene, the worst case scenario he was supposed to avoid.

So he looks at Renee— there again, that brief flash of vulnerability. Something electric runs through the two of them, and it jolts Jack as Hastings calls back.

“Jack?”

He takes a second to compose himself. Swallow his feelings like lead, because in the end, he still has to track them down.

_You’ve always failed, never able to protect those you love, lied to by all, what happened to Teri? You watched Tony die, too slow to stop him, you refused to give your life to your country and what happened? You caused their deaths! This time is no different!_

_YOU FAILED THEM, JACK!_

He clenches his fists. Unclenches them, then repeats the motion. The nails biting into his skin a temporary relief from all the thoughts clouding his head.

“I-it was prerecorded.”

A deep breath, trying to steady his trembling heart. Another sign of his weakness. Doesn’t he have enemies to hunt? Why is he standing here, trying and failing to mourn Hassan?

“We were too late.”

Hastings’ breath quickens— and he doesn’t blame him.

The sharp _shlink_ of a knife, and the recording cuts to black.

He vaguely feels himself sinking to his knees.

_You failed them, Jack!_

_One more to your list of sins!_

_Teri, Mason, Chapelle, Paul, Michelle, Palmer, Tony, Curtis, Bill! And now Hassan, the man Taylor trusted you with, gone because you were negligent and weak!_

A mantra of people he could never save.

_How many times, now? Heller was right! Everything you touch ends up dying, and you’re too prideful to admit it. Just you wait, your tainted hands will kill Chloe, then Renee—_

“NO!” He finally shouts, fist impacting with the wall. Laboured, shallow breaths as he tries not to drown in the endless void that is his own grief.

He doesn’t care how he looks in front of Renee now— there’s an endless torrent of grief that materialises itself into white-hot fury as he pounds another fist into the wall.

_You failed him._

“No.” His voice is calmer. Is he growing tired of his anger, or is he accepting it? Jack doesn’t know.

Doesn’t care.

Ultimately, no matter what he tells himself, there are two things that are true right now.

  1. President Hassan is dead,
  2. and Jack Bauer was too late to save him.



But does he mourn? ( _Can he mourn?_ )

No. He sets his eyes on the goalpost, and moves forward.

Because that’s who he is.

Jack Bauer.


	13. Renee Walker

_Renee._

There’s nothing he can say.

He takes a breath, so sharp it feels like knives in his throat. Staring down at

_RENEE_

lifeless.

Focus, Jack.

He- he can’t. Why? Why her?

There’s nothing he can say.

Her face— perfect, even in ~~death~~ , stark white.

A sharp, hollowing pain makes itself known in his chest. It’s bleeding out, slowly, like a knife has been lodged in there. Twisted, scraping at his sides, carving out a space in his ribcage. Scraping out a space for grief to worm its way into his heart.

Why _her?_

Chloe’s voice feels far, far away. He’s swimming in honey, he’s—

drowning.

Stranded like a fish out of water, he can’t breathe—

Happiness. A faint, past memory. Now there’s nothing but a quiet drop of grief, _plip plop, plip plop._ Eating away at him, like the prion from so many years ago.

Grief. What he had thought to be a distant memory, returning in a tidal wave. Taking his heart so easily it’s like the padlocks were never there to begin with.

Stupid. Why did he—?

He knows why. That moment of breathless elation— having someone who understands him.All the suffering and pain—

_Teri, Mason, Chapelle, Paul, Michelle, Tony, Palmer, Curtis, Bill—_

_RENEE._

And Heller was right. Heller was always right, he’s cursed, he’s cursed, he’s always been so cursed—

Chloe O’Brian’s voice stirs the pot,

“I’ll be fine, Chloe.”

Is the worst lie he’s ever told.

They.

won’t get away with this.

He’ll

_kill_

them.

Renee Walker.

Her name hurts to think about, even. Everything has stopped, outside the four hollow chambers of his heart— _Paul, Tony, Michelle, Palmer._

_Curtis, Bill._

_RENEE._

All the people

(HE COULD’VE SAVED)

And he lives. The monster lives.

How many lives has he taken? How many died for him to survive?

Grief is curious. There’s so much yet so little— taking so much space within you, suffocating you with its nothingness.

Did he feel like this when Teri—

No.

Can he remember? Or is he refusing too?

“You make this right, Jack. You go back there and make this right, because in the end, _you don’t want to die._ ”

Who said that? George?

He wants to laugh, wants to cry, wants to scream— but nothing comes out. Not even a whisper of a sound, merely the tears weakness leaking from his eyes.

Why _her_?

_You don’t want to die_

Except he does. He wants to lie down next to Renee and erase this, erase his life, erase the hundreds of people he’s killed, has been the responsible for the death of. He wants them to _live._ Why did they give their life for a monster like him?

He couldn’t even protect the ones that mattered most.

Chloe’s voice is soft, comforting— but distant.

_SHUT UP, CHLOE!_

He’ll avenge her, if it’s the last thing he does.

_Grief is an open wound. His heart bleeds out through it._

Why isn’t he dead?

“Were you a husband of the deceased?”

_The deceased._

_Renee Walker._

It fills the room, seeps into the walls, spills through the windows and levels the planet. It brings with it the all consuming wave of grief that Jack has been holding back behind that door in his mind.

Now it surges for him, obliterates everything in its path, all the traces of him that remained.

Everything is abstract. Is this living? Or is he already dead?

The world

_TOOK HER_

and left a gaping hole.

His head pulses, light and dizzy. Vision turning grey at the edges. Tears pressing, hot and vicious, at the back of his eyelids.

Pulsing with the shards of grief that tear him apart.

The shards of his own broken soul, if he believed in that.

“Sergei Bazhaev.”

And he’s focused. Clarity returning to his grief-sunken eyes, not taking away the pain of

_Renee_

but fuelling it. Clenching his fist, using the pain to _focus._

He can find who did this. He _will_ find them, starting with Bazhaev.

And God help him, if his enemy is the entire world itself, then _so be it._

Jack Bauer has lost too much.

So he does the only thing he knows how to—

Kill.

(And if he feels the slightest ounce of regret when Chloe’s voice begs him to land the helicopter, he kills it. He kills it, and forgets about her.)

(Sorry, Chloe.)

(This one’s mine.)


	14. Mikhail Novakovich

He murders Novakovich.

Goes in blasting— he doesn’t have time.

Sticks a sword in his stomach for good measure, too.

(Good riddance).


	15. Down with Yuri Suvarov

He hears the footsteps, hears everything— but the last person he expects to come through the door is Chloe O’Brian.

He doesn’t shoot her, can’t— couldn’t, as soon as he recognised that signature brown hair.

She’s got a gun, inexperienced grip, safety’s off, pointed at the wall—

He hates his threat assessments. Hates having to see her as a threat. Steels his already shattered heart and pulls her against the wall.

“Why the _hell_ are you here?”

“Jack, you don’t have to kill Suvarov! There’s another way!”

Always straight to the point. He forcibly suppresses a smirk— he can’t smile as his friend’s life dangles in his fingertips. _Can’t._

And what of the mission? He came all the way here to kill the President of Russia, and _damn you, Chloe, you are the one person who is going to make this unbearable!_

He’s always ignored his conscience when it suits him— logic and efficiency work best in his field, but he _can’t_ when his conscience his screaming in his face, demanding that “Jack, stop this madness!”

He— he can endure it. The pure _agony_ of his best friend trying to talk him down. “Who else knows where I am?”

“WHO ELSE?”

Chloe’s no field agent— he can see it in her eyes. She won’t deny him this information.

_If she does, are you going to interrogate her? Disembowel like you did Pavel? What are you, a monster?_

_A monster on the side of justice,_ he tells himself, and stares right at her.

“Cole… and Arlo. Please, listen!”

Goddammit, Chloe!

He’d hardened his resolve for this very moment. He hadn’t spared a thought for _those worthless killers,_ Pavel, Novakovich, Charles Logan— he hates them, but it didn’t take effort to kill them.

Pavel,

_RENEE’s_

sniper.

Novakovich? The boss, the man giving phone calls.

Charles Logan? He should have killed that bastard a long time ago. Should’ve killed him when he took him hostage, but the information from the bug was too useful—

_Oh, how you could’ve torn him to pieces!_

He should’ve killed him should’ve killed him—

FOCUS!

Only Cole and Arlo. Only Cole and Arlo. He’s safe—

“If I don’t get you out of here in ten minutes, Cole’s gonna send in every agent we have.”

Dammit, Cole. Always more ruthless, tactical than Chloe.

He releases the grip on her neck, backing away slowly. Dropping his gun back into its sheath as he tries to process the information.

_You were going to kill your BEST FRIEND—_

“Jack, they’re gonna kill you.”

Oh, how he wished—

“There’s a standing order to shoot you _on sight._ I- I couldn’t let that happen.”

Chloe. Oh, Chloe. Always soft-hearted when it comes to him. She _shouldn’t have._

“You shouldn’t have come after me.” Voice level, steady. Don’t show your weakness. Can’t afford to.

_You’ve made this plan far too painful_

“You’re my friend.”

_BANG._

“I didn’t have a choice.”

_BANG._

Two bullet holes, right where it hurts— squeezing his heartstrings like no one else ever could.She’s—

Her words can hurt him more than any physical wound can. They carve gashes into his steel-forged heart, clawing at him, _begging him,_ to stop this insanity.

It’s not insanity. It’s justice.

Is it?

Justice for Renee’s killers. Justice for the world, for what the Russians have done.

_Killing President Hassan—_

Chloe didn’t have a choice. Unfortunately, he doesn’t either.

“Neither do I.”

A sleeper hold. Hands around her neck, _if you squeezes just too tightly you will KILL HER—_

For what it’s worth, he’s sorry.

He lays her down gently, then clenches his fist. He— he has the determination to see this through. He can’t fail now. He’s come so far, and he has to kill the mastermind behind it all now.

Too bad, Yuri Suvarov.

_I guess Russia will need a new leader._


	16. He turned on me, and I opened fire

He hears thundering footsteps, knows that the SWAT team is on him.

Knows he needs to protect Chloe.

The words are easy to say. He’s waited for this, even. “CTU gave you standing orders regarding me.”

“To terminate with extreme prejudice.”

_To kill me on sight._

“If you don’t shoot me, that file’s not going anywhere.”

_The only evidence he has of the Russian involvement in Hassan’s murder._

He _can’t_ let them walk away unpunished.

Above all, _can’t_ let Chloe get arrested.

“Take the gun.” He clicks the safety off, handing Chloe the gun she came with. He remembers her assault rifling away at the terrorist trying to kill her, all those years ago. She probably knows how to shoot a gun, at least.

He hopes so.

Because this is her only chance of getting away without consequences. She doesn’t _deserve_ to be dragged in _his_ mess.

She’s innocent. He doesn’t _deserve_ a friend like her.

“TAKE IT!” He presses it into her hand. Backs away— she knows what she has to do now.

“POINT IT!”

_Please, Chloe, please—_

Her aims shakes. He knows she’s not going to hit anything vital… if she even dares to make the shot.

“When they come through the door you tell them you found me at the window with the sniper rifle, I turned on you and you opened fire,” he says breathlessly— thundering footsteps. There’s no _time._

“Don’t ask me to do something I can’t do!”

Her voice is quivering, like her aim. He

doesn’t

have

time.

“Dammit, Chloe, pull the trigger!” He wants this, he wants this to end, he wants it all to end. If he has to die, it should be by Chloe’s hand. Above all, this is

to _protect_ her.

“We are running out of time, they are gonna find us soon!”

Thundering footsteps. The SWAT team’s almost on them.

“You said you would do exactly what I say, that you would _follow this through._ Now, pull the trigger!”

_Please, Chloe, I’m begging you._

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you _can,_ and you _will._ ” He’s desperate. So desperate, now. He wants this, he wants death. But above all else, _he needs to protect Chloe._

“Now _pull the TRIGGER!”_ He’s out of options. He can’t kill his best friend— can’t. But he has to make it seem like he will!

Gun up, with a steady hand. Pointed at her temple, safety clicked off—

“NO!”

“Damn you Chloe, pull the trigger!”

Test of wills, test of wills— he thought he had the iron-hard will, but Chloe’s moral compass is relentless. She’ll break the law for him, she’ll undermine the Constitution— but the one thing she cannot do is shoot her best friend.

Jack knows that. He’s hoping she can overcome it.

“Jack—“

“We are _running out of time!_ PULL THE TRIGGER!”

“PLEASE! Don’t make me do this!”

What to say, what to say?

_There’s no time!_

“Chloe, I know how hard this is for you but if you care about me at all you will pull the trigger. Do it!”

_DO IT NOW, CHLOE! I can’t fail you, too…_

_Teri, Mason, Chapelle, Paul, Michelle, Palmer, Tony, Curtis, Bill—_

_RENEE._

_Not you too. I won’t let them_ touch _you._

“I’m sorry, I can’t—“

“CHLOE, PULL THE TRIGGER!”

“I-“

“ _PULL THE TRIGGER!”_

“ _I’M NOT GOING TO DO—“_

“ _DAMN YOU!”_

He doesn’t have a choice anymore. He can’t threaten her life.

Solution? Threaten his own. Take his own.

Gun to his head, cool metal brushing against his ear, the muzzle preparing to fire, _finally, finally, he can take his own life, his own life for Chloe O’Brian’s—_

**BANG.** ****

_She did it. She… did it._

_Thank you, Chloe. Now run._

The world fades to black. No more shooting, killing, torture.

Just the darkness embracing him in its grasp.

He’s free.


	17. Day 8 Ending

They’ve got a drone— they’ve got a drone on him. CTU- _Chloe_ can see him.

_CHLOE._

It’s far more urgent than anything he’s ever felt before. The desire, the burning _need_ to call her.

Say goodbye to his first, and last friend.

“Chloe, I—“

And what can he say? There’s so much to be said.

There’s no _time._

“My daughter. My family, they’re going to use them to get to me. I need you to protect them— protect them.”

“I’ll make sure they’re protected.” Her voice is trembling, trembling— oh gods, don’t open that door, Chloe. Don’t open that door.

“No, Chloe, you gotta _promise_ me.”

“ _Promise me_ you’ll keep them safe.”

A shuddering breath— a sniffle on the end of the line. “I’ll make sure they’re protected.”

“I promise.”

Goddamnit, he’s crying. He’s crying, he’s crying, he’s crying, the _invincible_ Jack Bauer is crying—

Stop.

The threat’s over.

The threat’s over, and he doesn’t have to hold the floodgates in anymore.

He hears sniffles, the slightest sob, and he isn’t sure whether to be happy or sad.

He- he made Chloe shoot him today, made her watch as he was tortured, injured, nearly killed, went down a dark path of retribution while he pushed her aside, made himself a fugitive. All for justice?

He’s still thankful that she’s on the phone.

So he _cries._ Pours it out into the few words he can say to her.

“You know, Chloe—“

“What?”

_This is unfair, you’re making her cry, don’t make her too attached—_

_Your friend! She deserves a goodbye, how much she means to you!_

“when you first came to CTU—“ Goddamnit, he’s crying. The tears are blurring his vision, searing into his gunshot wound like salt in a wound, but he has to talk.

_Has to._

Has to tell Chloe, otherwise he will never get a second chance.

“I never thought it was gonna be you that was gonna cover my back all these years.”

Chloe’s crying now, too. He doesn’t need to see her, doesn’t even need to hear her. He knows there are tears rolling down her face, and _he’s sorry._

_I’m sorry it has to come to this._

“And- And I know that everything you did today, was to try and protect me. I know that.”

He spies the drone, knows that CTU is watching him— the very last thing he can do is give Chloe a last look of him.

She deserves that much, at least.

And there are a thousand more words he can say, words of gratitude and sorrow, joy and anger, frustration and relief, but _there’s no time._

What else can he say to Chloe?

She’s sacrificed everything for him. And, in exchange, Jack has given up much of his life for hers.

“Thank you.”

She’s crying now, she’s crying— and how much it _breaks his heart,_ to hear his best friend crying over the phone, he can do nothing—

Focus.

“Good luck, Jack.”

Pinched, tight, and quiet.

The salt from his tears digs into his bullet hole, but he no longer cares. After he disconnects this call—

After he disconnects it—

She’ll never see him again. _He’ll_ never see her again.

A horrible, tearing sob bursts from his lips. He clamps down on it, he needs his mental faculties open for the escape—

Shut up, Jack.

_Chloe’s your best friend._

There’s nothing he can say that will comfort her.

Maybe, one day, they will meet in the afterlife. When life stops taking from him, and he gets to finally _live._

Until then, Chloe.

Goodbye.


	18. Audrey Raines

Phone call. He’s on the middle of an enemy ship, on his way to Cheng. “Chloe,” he answers, expecting her voice and

“Jack, it’s Kate,” comes her voice, and oh no, there’s trembling, what’s going on—?  
  
“Go ahead.”

Steady, calm, still. Not an iota of fear.

“Jack I’m so sorry—“

her voice is strangled. Strained. It’s about to snap, and his stomach sinks.

“We lost Audrey,“ and

he freezes.

_We lost Audrey_

_We lost Audrey_

_We lost Audrey—_

_Teri, Mason, Chapelle, Paul, Michelle, Palmer, Tony, Curtis, Bill—_

_RENEE._

_Audrey?_

“What are you talking about you said she was safe,” he breathes.

Gets it out as quick as he can—

because if he doesn’t he’ll start to crack.

“ _I’m so sorry— I’m so sorry,”_

He’s already bracing himself for the impact. It feels like atoms vibrating apart, the way a car starts to rattle as it pushes speed, the way his entire body quakes with tension.

“ _There was another shooter, and he got her Jack, I’m—_ ”

_“I’m so sorry,”_

And everything

_shatters._

_Teri, Mason, Chapelle, Paul, Michelle, Palmer, Tony, Curtis, Bill—_

_RENEE—_

_AUDREY._

The phone slips from his grasp.

Audrey, gone, dead and _TAKEN FROM HIM_

and that unyielding, cold certainty spans across worlds.

He’s spiralling; somewhere dark, somewhere far out. Nothing reaches him.

_No, no, no, Audrey, I promised to protect you, I promised_

Can’t- can’t do this.

He _can’t._

_Grief is an open wound. His heart bleeds out through it._

_Teri, Mason, Chapelle, Paul, Michelle, Palmer, Tony, Curtis, Bill—_

_RENEE—_

_Audrey._

_AUDREY._

She was— she was the reason. That he came back, got arrested, did everything in his power to save Heller. _She_ was there.

It didn’t matter he was going to get arrested, didn’t matter he was sacrificing his freedom from the law, didn’t matter that he was done with America.

Didn’t matter that his heart twisted with the grief of

_RENEE,_

the pain never dulling. His every waking moment tortured, with her death.

And yet,

he came back for _Audrey._

_And now SHE’S GONE, JACK!_

What life is there without her?

It hurts, even worse than—

_RENEE—_

and he can’t do this.

The night turns several shades darker. Wrenched, desolated, in a world without her.

He came back for _Audrey._

_Teri, Mason, Chapelle, Paul, Michelle, Palmer, Tony, Curtis, Bill—_

_RENEE—_

_AUDREY._

So, so many lives. Everyone he’s ever cared about.

gone. Can’t even recall their faces now, his own brain trying to protect him, _Teri_ and _Chapelle_ and _Tony_ taken from him.

He can barely feel his own pulse. Wonders, morbidly, if he’s dead. _Good riddance,_ he thinks absently, the cool metal of rifle fading from his consciousness.

Heller was right.

He can’t live, now.

He doesn’t deserve it.

_Teri, Mason, Chapelle, Paul, Michelle, Palmer, Tony, Curtis, Bill—_

_RENEE—_

_AUDREY._

he should’ve been there for her—

faster, stronger, smarter.

It’s the old mantra.

His head is full of static and pressure, any moment it’ll break now, it’ll—

He has two choices: to find a way of existing that doesn’t hurt, like there are knives in his throat every time he breathes, grief settling itself into his chest like weighted lead, or

_meet them again._

The pistol on his belt. It’ll do. He clicks the safety off, loads it.

_It’s over now, Jack, you can see them again_

_see HER again_

_no more suffering, no more guilt, no more grief._

_Only an eternity with your loved ones, all waiting for you in the afterlife._

It- it sounds so appealing.

_SHE’S GONE, JACK!_

His lip quivers, and tears run silent. The cool night wind stabbing the weakness right to his core.

_I’m so sorry, Audrey, I’m so sorry—_

Sorry doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Grief. It’s tangled up in his mind and in his bloodstream, twisting beneath his skin, slowly eroding away at everything he once was.

_I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m—_

He makes up his mind.

Everything is still distant. No shapes, only colours. The barest of pressure in his right hand— the pistol. Ready, expectant.

Excited, even. An echo of an emotion that once was.

Pistol raised. Metal on his forehead. The knowledge that this will be over.

_I’ll see you again_ _—_

“ _Zhe bian!”_

 _Over here,_ he translates.

The Chinese.

Cheng.

In an instant, it’s white-hot anger. Fury rattles in his ribcage, grief fuelling it like hydrogen fuels the sun. His entire body is burning, burning with fury and grief, its heat fuelling him into overdrive.

_They won’t_

_get away_

_with this._

Pistol down. Focused. White ship walls, grey metal floor. The sound of boots thumping above—

_He’ll_

_kill_

_them._

It doesn’t matter that the pain is worse here, when he’s present. When the floor is steady under his feet, where he sees shapes and not blobs of colour.

It doesn’t matter.

Jack Bauer knows pain. He lives and breathes it.

So he opens fire, and doesn’t stop.

He’s lived through the pain for so long. He can endure it a little longer.

(And when he holds that sword to Cheng’s throat, id and superego clashing, _kill him or wait until they can ID his face,_ pleasure versus pain, he feels nothing.)  
  
(When they do ID his face, averting another national crisis, he snaps. Beheads him with one, vicious blow.)

( _This is for Audrey, you son of a bitch._ )


	19. Day 9 Ending

“She walks first!” He calls.

Voice steady.

Steady.

_Heart quivering, ready to burst, years and years of anger and injustice ripping his humanity to pieces, snatching any emotion he could possibly feel_

steady.

A look- the Russian man gives a curt nod, and Chloe begins walking.

_Actually willing to honour the agreement,_ he thinks dryly.

Then the sharp, haunting pain of

_AUDREY_

comes back, and he sets his face back into a grim line.

He’s lost too many people. He can’t lose Chloe, too.

The construction yard is ghostly silent. Wind sweeps through the piles of rubble- Belcheck’s gloves rub against the cool metal of the gun.

The sound of dust swirling around Chloe’s feet.

His heart pounding out of its chest.

They meet.

Stop.

Lock eyes.

“Jack, you don’t have to do this,” Chloe says, breathlessly.

But the choice

( _AUDREY’S DEAD, AND SHE WILL NEVER COME BACK_ )

is already made.

“It’s time I paid for all of this,”

_Teri, Mason, Chapelle, Paul, Michelle, Palmer, Tony, Curtis, Bill,_

_RENEE—_

_AUDREY._

But he isn’t sure, anymore.Whether any law is worth following, or if his own life even has value.

_Shut up, Jack. Your life only has value as an exchange for Chloe’s._

He’s been a tool. Years and years of living in numbness, unable to shed a single tear as he murdered his family, his friends, his—

_lovers._

His life is a tragedy. And Jack Bauer endures it, because he doesn’t know how to let go.

“You were right, about what you said back then.”

A sharp intake of breath, followed by suppressed tears.

Jack isn’t stupid. He can see them through the edge of his vision.

He isn’t sure if he can look at Chloe without wanting to crumple and die, anymore.

“About being my best friend.”

A pang of pain. The hollowed-out shell of a human, grief pulsing through his body like its lifeblood, jolted by electricity that he hasn’t felt since…

_RENEE._

_AUDREY._

To distract himself, he—

Not a distraction. Chloe is never his distraction.

But he reaches out, for a split second, that jolt of electricity remains as he clutches Chloe’s hand.

Solid, warm, pulsing with life.

Alive.

She jerks, slightly, at the touch. He can only imagine how cold his hands are, how the _blood coursing through those veins aren’t yours, living on thousands of other lives, you worthless MONSTER_

“Thank you,” He murmurs, because he will break if he speaks louder. And his head turns-

Chloe’s striking, grey gaze. Reduced to tears.

_Oh, Chloe._

He doesn’t know what to say, except to thank her.

For how many years now, has she had his back?

He doesn’t remember.

_Can’t._

Face contorted in agony, she meets Jack’s gaze. Wistfulness and pity, nostalgia and grief. All shared through the pulsing connection in their hands, the electric contact that grounds him.

Eyes glimmering with a thousand unspoken words, a thousand minor little incidents, where Chloe has put herself on the line for Jack in blind faith, and this is what she gets.

A lifetime of never seeing him again.

How long ago, now, had he seen

_AUDREY_

?

He doesn’t know. Doesn’t care.

Time loses all meaning when you’re with Chloe O’Brian. He hopes that the eternity he’s experiencing, compressed into a fraction of a second,

is enough.

_(Never enough, you let them DIE)_

One last request, selfish to the end.

“Look out for my family when you can.”

_Kim._

Her name sends a spike of agony through his chest, but he doesn’t react.

Can’t.

If it weren’t for his life being so valuable,

( _Valuable? You live on a mountain of corpses_ )

for Chloe’s, he would’ve killed himself already.

Certainly saved himself a lifetime of trouble.

Chloe’s terrified, panicked gaze is on his face. Stone-cold, carefully blank. Because if he so much as cracks, the floodgates will open.

And Jack Bauer can never do that.

He steels himself, hardening his heart.

_Or what’s left of it, anyway_

“Go.”

And there will never be another moment like this. Not in the uncertainty of New York, where he was a fugitive, but free.

_60 seconds of contact with a past life—_

But he knows he will never be free again.

It should scare him, but

_he stands on a mountain of corpses. The least he could do is pay for them._

“Go!” He insists, more forcefully. The pulsing connection between her hand and his, severed.

Feels like the life is draining out of him.

_When the life was drained out of Teri, when you watched Paul as he died and did nothing, when the light left Tony’s eyes as he died on the hospital floor, watched Curtis bleed out from YOUR shot_

_watched RENEE bleed out slowly_

Is this what it feels like to be dead?

He doesn’t care. Can’t.

But his steps hold steady. Walking towards the Russians with a purpose. Footsteps crunching against gravel, the sound echoing throughout the wasteland.

A fitting end for him.

He reaches the Russian man. Eyes straight ahead, knees locked. Face back in it’s signature scowl, staring him down.

“I’ve taken you at your word.”

He knows how hollow his words sound.

How many times has he promised-

_I’ll protect you, I give you my word_

and broken it?

“If anything happens to her or my family—“

Utmost seriousness. Even tone, low growl scraping at the back of his throat. Withered gaze meeting the Russian’s as he makes the threats he’s made countless times.

“your entire world will come apart, and you will never see it coming.”

Dead serious. Or, maybe just dead— he honestly doesn’t know the difference anymore.

“We just wanted you, Mr. Bauer.” Raspy, distinctly east European. Serbian, Polish? One of the old Soviet—

It takes a second for his instincts to calm down, to stop viewing everything as a threat. Because the days of threats and world wars are over.

He’s giving up his freedom now— he doesn’t need to fight. Not anymore.

“That’s all we ever wanted.”

And

_RENEE_

flashes through his mind.

A lance of pain making itself known in its heart. It’s stabbed him, twisting and turning, letting him slowly bleed out, never letting fully go.

What he said to Kate, earlier.

_You just got to learn to… forgive yourself._

Forgive himself?

How can you forgive a monster, who lives on other people’s corpses?

Four years ago. Even a Presidential pardon could never sign away the horrible, twisting grief in his chest.

“I’d say you were going to enjoy Moscow,” the Russian intones. His voice is tired, too. “But you’d know I’d be lying.”

He wants to scoff. Laugh at the man in front of him, who thinks Jack Bauer will be _afraid._

He’s lost _everything._

Can he even be afraid, now? Can the Russians break past the padlock that holds himself together?

Never.

But he doesn’t voice that. Because as much as he’s lost,

Chloe’s still here.

And that

means

_everything_

to him.

A last, longing look at Chloe.

Memories flit between his eyelids. Or are those tears? Jack Bauer doesn’t find it in himself to care.

_Teri, Mason, Chapelle, Paul, Michelle, Palmer, Tony, Curtis, Bill,_

_RENEE—_

_AUDREY._

Chloe.

_“I thought that… if I could save them… I’d save myself.”_

He’s saved one person. Lived and breathed pain, sacrificed everything for her just as she has for him.

One person.

Chloe cowers behind Belcheck, but there isn’t any threat to her anymore. He’s done his job- protecting his loved ones.

_Teri, Mason, Chapelle, Paul, Michelle, Palmer, Tony—_

He shakes his head, curling his lips up in the smallest, tiniest smile. The weathered look on his face giving it the appearance of a smirk, flashing it briefly at Chloe.

She deserves something, anything from Jack. She should not see him cowered in fear, coiled and ready to pounce like a predator. Afraid of what they’re going to do to him in Moscow.

Because she will feel guilt. _Guilt will rest on your shoulders, heavier and heavier until you don’t wake up, one day._

So he smiles.

Jack Bauer is so, so tired.

So when Jack closes the door behind him, the _thunk_ of the locks and the _whirr_ of the helicopter blades make themselves known, he relaxes.

His head falls back, heart slowing. Blood no longer pumping to his brain, his heart, his lungs. Chest no longer rising with breaths, turning to blood and bone and galaxies.

And Jack

finally

gives

up.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. I was really shaken at the end of Day 9, and I wrote this almost as soon as I finished the final episode. Mainly, I wanted to explore the concept of Jack finally giving up- he's a stubborn old mule, but he's on a helicopter en route to Russia, certain to never see his family or friends again. So I simply let him die of old age/exertion, or you could think of it as his heart giving out.
> 
> One other thing I wanted to explore is the grief that Jack feels. Kiefer Sutherland does a great job at expressing Jack's grief, but I've always thought of it as something deeper- so I've marked this as canon divergent just in case. Mainly, I just wanted to write poor Jack suffering.
> 
> I'd love to hear any constructive criticism for this piece, as it's a passion project for myself rather than a work I originally intended for the public.


End file.
